Golden
by HopeSproutsWings
Summary: Heaven is a big place for a little fledgling. A big, scary place. So when an angel is all alone, other than intense cuteness, what happens when nobody is willing to see behind the perfection of home? Growing up has never been this...well, strange.
1. Would You Listen?

**A back story to my first SPN fic that has a long name. It'll be cute, angst-y and depressing all at the same time depending on how well it flows. So, dear readers, here it is! I'm actually in exams right now and have little time to proofread, so…sorry.**

**Disclaimer: For God's sakes! I couldn't even own Castiel's pinky toe, so the whole of SPN? Pffft.**

Chapter One: Would You Listen?

Before God made Earth and every living creature on it, He created the perfect beings. The angels. Eight-winged Seraphim to help him come to conclusions He otherwise wouldn't have even thought of and his fighting Legion, fighting with sword and sharp singular wings. Truly, his advisors and warriors were beautiful in their golden glory yet all they seemed to do was look at Him like a treasure that needed protecting. He was God, for God's sakes! It became extremely irksome after three thousand years of nothing but wondering why he had made the _perfect _beings if they had little to no free will? Here was a concept he had been playing with for a while. The Seraphim, for all their insights, could not possibly understand the reasoning behind Him actually wanting someone to argue with him. The Legion honestly didn't seem to listen, unless it was plans for battle. So He waited patiently for an idea to strike.

In other words, God got creator's block.

After a while, it became clear that the Seraphim weren't exactly having the time of their not-lives either. When not taking counsel with Him, they literally contented themselves by staring at each other with unblinking eyes to see who would be the first to look away. The record so far was around two hundred and six years, give or take a decade. It took a while for Him to realize that he had created them strictly for the purpose of listening to his thoughts, which also brought to his attention the fact that they always agreed with him. _On everything. _It was actually mildly disturbing. The Legion trained. And trained. And trained.

Again, He came back to the niggling feeling whenever He thought of the dilemma. Free will would allow His perfect creations a little bit of wiggle room to be a little less than perfect and a little more alive. As a bit of an experiment and after a whole lot of planning, He handed to the priestly and fully grown Seraphim a tiny fledgling with six perfectly white wings sprouting seamlessly from his back. Already, the feathery appendages were six feet in length and looked almost comical when compared to the size of it's body but the Seraphim were intrigued by the tiny creature. Different from them and yet, he was the same. Looking into his crystal clear eyes as God watched in pride, they named him Michael.

Stroking his downy feathers and crooning over him like one of the creatures He was planning to create, a hen, the Seraphim spoiled the boy to the point of disaster. He would throw tantrums if not tucked into the wings of one of his surrogate parents, which wasn't often. He would scream and cry if God tried to give him any kind of punishment, no matter how gentle. The first time God had hesitated to spank Michael when he was two hundred years old nearly killed Him because of the sorrowful glances the Seraphim gave him. It was no wonder He decided to give him a little lesson in humility. With a little bit of imagination and as much love as He could give, He created Michael's perfect opposite.

Whereas he had hair of the softest, silken sunlight, Lucifer had hair of black that stuck up in unruly tufts and occasionally went into a slight wave. Michael's eyes were clear as day, Lucifer's a stormy grey. Michael's skin a healthy tan and Lucifer's with an olive sheen. Different as night and day but the plan worked incredibly well. As expected, the toddler noticed the new baby in Heaven and screeched as loudly as possible. To say he was unhappy would be an understatement. However, as soon as Lucifer began wailing and fisting his tiny palms for Michael to cuddle with him they became inseparable. Every night the Seraphim tried to separate them and every night they turned away to shake their heads and smile because Michael would have his brother tucked under a fluffy wing to keep him warm.

He no longer threw tantrums terrible enough to make even God cringe at the volume of his voice, beautiful as it was. Michael was too busy trying to please the tiny fledgling that had a fondness for toes and a dependency on his big brother. Finally, when God deemed them ready, he created another sibling for them to play with. Michael was training with the Legion by then and saw it as his duty to protect both of his baby brothers from harm. After that, while Lucifer and Raphael maintained their relative innocence Michael grew up strong and without much humor. Even God became spacey when the time came to check in on the Legion and have his son report to him…It was an unfortunate fact that although he worried terribly, he wasn't much good at expressing thoughts or feelings about a subject.

That's where Lucifer came in.

Although it was clear they would be equals when they grew, the younger was clearly the better at putting words together. Whether it be for trickery or to convince his brothers that he was _not, _in fact, too young to be training, Lucifer always had a litany of words for all who would care to listen. He was the mouthpiece of the three brothers. Raphael often preferred solitude in order to create a distinct difference between his attention seeking brothers and himself. As a result, he spent much of his time reading in the Pantheon and became quite skilled at the art of healing even at such a young age. There lay the problem. Since they all had their own specialties and were admittedly very good at them, the Archangels, as they were called, looked down on those who didn't.

The Seraphim were still looked at in wonder but the Legion was treated with almost frigid disdain. The very angels who trained them and welcomed them like brothers were being shunned by the unjustified reason of only having one pair of wings. They didn't shine a pure white like Michael's, or speckle beautifully in just the right light like Lucifer's. They didn't have the near glow of health that Raphael's well-groomed wings reflected. The Legion, simply put, wasn't special in their eyes. They weren't as beautiful, as colorful, as powerful as the Archangels and Seraphim. Wings with metallic sheen, scar-covered from battle and not as smart as the average angel but that didn't mean a thing in God's eyes. They were _all _His children and yet even in their perfection, there was mass prejudice.

So God once again made a plan. It was much different than this time because instead of creating the perfect warrior, advisor or son, He was letting this being take a life of it's own choosing. Having picked out a perfect mentor for the newest Archangel, He smiled and allowed the tiny ball of glowing light to leave His hand. Flickering gold and dancing wildly, it shot off instantly with what He could already tell was going to be boundless energy. It was only hoped that the chosen of His sons would take care of the fledgling. Erasing the thought from His mind, He carefully forgot any of what had just come to pass. Of course the fledgling would be loved. The only way this plan would work was if the Archangels didn't discover him before the time had come…

6969696969696969696969696969 6969696969696969696969696969 6969696969696969696969696969 6

The golden light arrived in an unfortunate place, for it seemed as though the chosen son had died in battle. His brothers mourned his passing but none of them knew the oath he had taken to their Father. And so it was that a tiny fledgling came into being, alone and cold laying beside the imprint of a massive set of wings. Wild hair that was already covering his eyes was rubbed out of the way by a weary hand as the golden light dimmed and vanished, now reflected in the eyes of amber and flashing richness. Hiccupping curiously as he looked around, the tiny babe's face curled into a crying pout as the feel of death roiled over him. Sobbing and wailing miserably in the almost dark piece of Heaven didn't bring any curious siblings to save him and he immediately fell silent.

Tears blurred the unnamed fledgling's eyes as he whimpered and crawled closer to the light clouds that he could call home until someone came for him. There he waited for the mentor he would never have, watching from a distance those lucky fledglings who were playing and training with older brothers and sisters who had no time in their busy lives for a tiny reject. A thumb made it's way into his mouth and an adorable gurgling sound came from his throat from pretending he was there with his brothers, whom he already loved dearly. The moon came up brightly behind him and lit the wild mop on his head the exact color of molten gold. Squinting in the sudden light and blinking back tears as it seared his eyes, the flash of gaudy gold that went through his eyes was hardly noticed, even by him.

A butterfly fluttered serenely by his nose before landing briefly on it. Deciding he quite liked the feeling, the fledgling followed it as the creature took flight once more and led him to a meadow. It was absolutely gorgeous. Filled with flying, singing creatures and curious little beasts that snuffled at his side to make him giggle and squeal. Tall things waved to him with hands of green, red and even yellow while their smaller counterparts awed the babe with their bright colors. Crawling on his hands and knees brought the fledgling towards a particularly strange tall thing. It's arms and hands drooped and swayed in the cool breeze blowing through the meadow. It was sad for him.

The tall thing, a tree as they told him with soft brushes against his mind, curled a loop of it's vine-like leaves around his waist to heft him into it's branches. The view was amazing from the very top of the friendly tree and he could even see his Father's throne from the bright shine far to the north. The Archangels were training together, moving in perfect rhythm to Michael's demands. With another soft flash of golden eyes, he smiled giddily as he knew one day he would join them. Just…not right now. A rustle of wings somewhat alerted him to the presence of another being before large arms scooped him out of the tree. His new friend's protests were cut off with a stern, "Silence. I will not have this fledgling muck about in my glade. He left enough of a mess as it is, going through my chrysanthemums. Now, little one, it is time for you to go."

While not cruel, this brother wasn't the nicest of the brood and definitely didn't enjoy it when the little fledges came to visit. The way Irakiel saw it, this was his space and nobody else should be here. The tiny face began scrunching up to cry as the older angel's grip became too tight and the trembling lip started to go. The amber eyes grew impossibly wide as tears started to fill them, sunlight bouncing off the shimmering liquid and giving his eyes an impossible sheen. Thus was the birth of the puppy dog eyes and they worked as well now as they would on Dean millennia from now. Irakiel instantly felt the stickiness of the emotion known as guilt and the rush of panic before the fledgling burst into soft wails. Changing his grip into more of a cradle, he murmured in a slightly harsh voice, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Look, you can come back once in a while, but just…don't mess up any of this, alright? Now, I'm going to carry you back to the gate."

Irakiel promptly left the meadow in a flurry of dull grey feathers, speeding towards Heaven's gates and smiling slightly at the babe's delighted squeals. It would appear that the tiny being loved the feeling of flight even though he wouldn't spread his wings for several years more. Dropping him gently on a soft cloud, Irakiel was actually sad to leave the poor thing all alone. He felt slightly better when he knew the young angel's mentor would come for him soon enough and left without another word. A few minutes later, soft sobs were coming from the yet again abandoned archangel baby as the undeveloped wings bunched around him like a downy blanket. They would have a delicate strength as he grew older, that much was certain, in the fine boning of the feathered appendages. The fledgling would be fast.

If anyone bothered to teach him how to fly.

**Depressing first chapter, no? I think we all know who the little archangel is. Review if you know who Irakiel will become later on in the story. If you get it right, I'll write an extra chapter on the childhood of Castiel and post it as an extra. If not, I'll still post the chapter but later on as part of the story. Peace!**


	2. Darkest Sunrise

**Okay, babes! Let's just hope nobody threatens to kill me for this chapter because I make this shit up as I go along. That said, enjoy and I don't own supernatural.**

Chapter Two: Darkest Sunrise 

The first day of life for any creature is a day nobody will forget except the creature itself. As it's mind wakes up maybe it wonders just where everybody is or if they will ever come back, only to find it had never actually been alone and had simply shut it's eyes. It was the first day of being coddled close to a warm body, of receiving endless kisses and squeezes for now and a long time to come. It was also the start of a realization that most come up with when they're teenagers or, sometimes, barely out of training pants. Nothing lasts forever. All things come to an end, some things sooner than later, yet what doesn't begin can never end. If you looked at it this way, it would be very depressing, indeed, for there would have been no warmth, kisses or coddling to be had in the dark of night or even the light of day. There would be no firsts to be remembered, no pride in accomplishments and nobody to wipe away shining tears.

Another saying goes here. You can't miss what you never had but you know what others would miss.

It was very true for a sleeping fledgling barely wrapped in a cloud with downy wings soaking up the approaching rays of dawn. The songs and prayers of his siblings were already trilling clearly through the Heavens in an endless symphony of love to their father, one who the tiny one in question had a vague impression of before that, too, slipped away. Amber eyes blinked sleepily as a single ray of golden light caused the speckles of gold to shimmer, entrancing no one but catching the eye of several small creatures. They could feel this peculiar stranger and it felt lonely. There seemed to be a hole in it that wasn't filled like the other little ones' playing in the clouds.

And so it was that the fledgling was so caught up in sleeping that he nearly missed his very first sunrise, a very important occasion in anyone's life. To see such simple beauty across a clear sky with fresh eyes could only make it more delightful. The babe seemed to think so, cooing as he reached unsteadily for a bright orange tail of color trailing from the bright orb. It almost seemed to understand his thoughts as it selfishly moved away, unwilling to be held in such grubby little fingers. The babe whined in disappointment. And then he looked through the gate.

All through the clouds, giggling fledglings were surrounded by bright, colorful light that danced and played between fingers and toes to the whims of their elders. A glance at his own tiny digits only reaffirmed what he already sort of knew. The babe was different. Too different, it would seem, to have the simple pleasure of strong arms holding onto him while equally warm colors glided around him. A child should never know the feeling, especially not a little angel, but on such a day and as such an innocent being it's heart broke a little. Twinges of emotion that felt like pain beat across his chest in steadily growing waves and when he accidentally scooted himself through a wet and uncomfortable patch in the clouds, it reached a climax. Lips quivering this time in genuine tears, blue streaks fell from his eyes and mixed with the clear Water.

Soft bawls rang quietly in the darker clouds outside Heaven's gate where just yesterday, a battle was fought and won yet lost a fledgling his mentor. A place where the day before, a golden light shone down on the black imprint of wings and holy blood to become the first ever orphan in the palace of God. So it was a very good thing said former golden light was sitting where he was. The thing about Water is that she's a worrier. She worries constantly about the plants she feeds, about the animals who drink her, about the land she sits on. Right now she was worried about the tears. There was a tiny thing just sitting in her, crying it's Grace away with no one to hear it. Droplets cascaded up the little one's arms and legs, feeling the delicateness of limbs and soul before mingling with the tears to wipe them away. She had no voice so couldn't sooth him but she could still sing.

Oh, what a song she had.

The weeping fledgling was quick to settle into the arms of Water as the tears kept on coming. She had to admit to herself that this was the first fledgling to hear her beloved song. The rest were so enchanted by Fire and Air, her brothers, and so none truly heard her unless they had come to ask her for fish. This little one had nothing to ask, though, and she had everything to give to him. A song was the least she could do to save it at least some of the heartache she felt radiating from it's very core. The soft swishing of a stream, the happy gurgle of a brook and the heady sound of raindrops dripping to the ground made a soothing symphony that the animals only ever heard. Their ears perked up as they settled close to their caretaker just to listen for a little while. Deer rested with wolf, rabbit with hawk and they all simply felt the melody.

Imagine Water's surprise when the little one sang back.

It wasn't her song exactly but to her, it was much, much better. Instead of her soft voice the fledgling possessed a sweetness that reminded her of honey or the feel of a drifting feather just barely brushing the surface of skin. It rose and fell like an ocean's might yet soared, sometimes, like an eagle on the hunt drifting on air currents. Her heart soared with it as his song mingled with her own in perfect harmony and at last, she knew she had found her one. Water wasn't just mother or provider. She could put out the mightiest of fires and make them shrink back at the sight of her. She shaped land with her patience, strength and wit while controlling the very wind with her depths. Nobody had tamed her yet.

Fire had been wrangled by Michael, quick to anger and quick to be extinguished. She wondered with some amusement if it was a sign of things to come. Air had also been easily twisted around by Raphael's words, outwitted in a game of puzzles. Water had little respect for that one. So easily impressed by surface thoughts. The next one made her smile. Earth was biding her time, amused at their brothers' willingness to be nothing more than a tool instead of a conscious being with thoughts and feelings. Her sister already knew her little one was coming though it would take time. She was patient. She would wait.

Now Water herself had been tamed by a voice, a soul and a single whine from the now silent babe's throat. Her only regret, she thought as power was willed to him, was that she could no longer hope to care for him like she had done with the animals and plants. A silent prayer was never answered because at that moment, Water's song ceased to exist within her. Now the light shone in him, her little fledgling chosen by her and for her. Earth said a quiet goodbye and wouldn't be heard from for centuries to come. The babe was alone again just a short hour after having found someone to cradle and rock him. Sure, she wasn't warm or showering him with kisses but it was as close as he was going to get for a good long while.

The animals were watching him expectantly, waiting for the bare pool to be filled so that they could sate their thirst. One, a giant wolf, got to her feet and made her way to the fledgling's side. A whispering voice told him what they wished for him to do then she pressed her cold nose against his cheek to make him giggle. She, too had fallen in love with the babe and although he wasn't one of her own, perhaps he could run with her. The wolves had always worshipped the moon so now that he carried Water within his soul, they would follow him to the ends of the earth. Although she was alone perhaps he didn't have to be. For the first time she began to think about cubs of her own instead of stealing others. Making a life instead of taking one. A promise she made to the fledgling that as long as her kin lived, there would forever be a lover of the moon to soothe his tears. Trotting off after a quick drink she resolved to keep a close eye on this one.

The infant just sat there in something akin to disbelief. He didn't make a sound as the animals drank their fill and left him alone again. The sun was still high in the sky and almost seemed to be angry with him just for being alive, though he didn't know why. Bright amber eyes stared dully towards the sky, more violet than blue, and as they flashed gold with just a hint of clear blue images danced for him in vivid colors and sound. A beautiful face with flashing eyes and a slight smile scooping up a fledgling, golden headed and laughing. Triple pairs of wings flowed around the fledgling before the Archangel started to glide casually across the sky, teaching the little one how to flap his delicate wings. Another flash of the same face reflected in ice and fire made the babe squeal and it quickly faded into the back of his mind.

Another flash. Huge white wings positively glowing with Grace as an older Archangel swooped into battle with his Legion, lacking somewhat in elegance but a definite force to be reckoned with. _blink. _The same face with blood and tears streaming down until it was an unrecognizable jumble, before being brushed away roughly by a battle scarred hand. He seemed older, if only in the eyes that screamed _too many deaths, too many centuries._ An older part of him solemnly whispered that he would learn in time though it would hurt so much more than it did now. The babe tilted his head softly and the sounds of God's Seraphim singing their praises came rushing back. Gold melded smoothly with amber until there was no sign an extra color had ever been there. There was no glow surrounding his eyes and the lines of tattoos had faded from his skin.

Blinking slowly, the baby gurgled and flopped on his bare little butt in order to devour his toes better. They looked quite interesting from his point of view and in order to study them further, he would, of course, need to taste them. Incredible agility brought his toes easily in reach until he abruptly decided he no longer wanted his toes. The fledgling wanted his wings, which were currently fuzzy and absolutely useless when it came down to flight. Not that he wanted to fly, oh no. Not yet. After a great deal of difficulty on his part and a few soft _fwap'_s to his face, though God only knows how that happened, he managed to get a wing cradled around his chest. It was a pretty amazing wing. Gold, cream and a few specks of amber all accented by fluffy down.

And then he stuck it in his mouth.

The infant didn't exactly like the taste of it or the texture on his tongue, but it _did _make him feel a great deal better about his current situation. With a delicate ridge held delicately in his toothless little mouth it was pretty damn obvious he was either bipolar or waiting for something. Possibly both. Most of the time this would be frowned upon, as the elder angels broke this habit quite quickly if it ever developed at all. Sucking on little baby wings might have made a truly adorable picture but it also grew into a habit. Imagine little fledglings just going around with a wing tip in their mouths or possibly, someone else's. Someone who needed those primary feathers preferably dry and in one piece in order to fly to and from a battle field. In human terms, it was like having a little leech stuck to your back all day steadily growing larger until suddenly, it's sucked out a lung, a few arteries and maybe even a kidney. Okay, not the best comparison but considering some demons _do _look like leeches there's some hope for that analogy to work.

But not really. The short of it is, wings sucking is frowned upon.

Ah, well. What the fledgling didn't know couldn't hurt him. He did end up stopping when a few feathers ripped off from the force of his suckling and he ended up having a nice little cry over it before going back to his toes. They _were _terribly fascinating, after all. All pinkish and pudgy with gleaming little toenails. They didn't taste particularly good what with all the dirt, mud and other things he'd been crawling around in. Beggars can't be choosers, though. He couldn't exactly go around sticking other angel's toes into his pink gums and slobber all over them. Not because it wasn't polite since let's face it, the fledgling's a baby. Said baby just doesn't want to taste other people's toes and that was that.

There's something to be said about the intelligence at work here. Which is to say, not much, when a decision came to mind about twice the toe gobbling goodness and that was how he ended up where he currently was. Somewhere between a pretzel and a squat. It really shouldn't have been possible but millennia from now, two men are going to be scarred forever by that very same flexibility used in other ways. The taste of toe jam gets old after the first century or two. Pausing for a second in his play, the fledgling heard voices coming from behind the Gate. Young ones not much older than him but in a flash of gold, he knew they wouldn't play with him. The youngest was slightly snooty and the eldest was strange even by his reckoning. Just staring aimlessly into the darkening sky as if he were searching for something. That part the nameless little angel could understand. After all, he himself was searching for a future.

It wasn't time to meet his brothers though. The gold had said they would come together in amazing circumstances and that his life would change because of it. It had also become exasperated by the childish squeals and throaty gurgles instead of actual words, or maybe it had just left because it was laughing too hard. The sweet voice has said to wait and so he would wait. The voice was friendly, like Water. Or maybe not like Water because the voice was like his bigger brothers' and it was all deep and booming but much, much nicer. The fledgling wasn't afraid of whoever it was and that's all that mattered.

The two brothers were soon scolded by their mentors and guided away from the Golden Gates which, sadly, hid an equally golden head of hair behind it. The promise he'd made to the gold voice was nearly broken by the force of his longing for attention. It seemed as though to compensate, a cloud wrapped it's fluffiness around him in an embrace eerily reminiscent of the elemental goddess that had merged her powers with his own. Later he'd discover that it was this elemental power that kept him sane through the years. Cradled in the slightly damp fluff, the babe blinked his big amber eyes and sniffled dismally.

Babbling to himself in an effort to soothe his aching baby heart, his attention was caught by the fickle sun lowering from the sky. The darker colors avoided him still and hissed insults that he couldn't understand in his ears, yet at the slightest glimpse of a silvery goddess Fire fell silent. Moon was the embodiment of water, controlling her tides in ebbs and flows that brought with it incredibly beautiful music. It was the Moon that had taught Water to sing, unlike Air or Fire, who weren't able to understand the beauty of music. She could feel this fledgling was different and that he would listen, for a time. Silver rays beamed softly in a subdued version of her own brother, the sun. In one ear there was a song, sweet to his ears, and in the other there were horrible hisses of flames and demons. Michael fought them off with his Holy Fire but the bad place had Fire too. Fire was neither good nor bad but simply was.

The bad place. Angel, as the moon now called him, knew a little of the bad place. From the imprint of wings on the ground, feathers mixed in blood and whisperings of gold in his mind he painted a picture. A _horrible _picture. Screaming angels, demons, monsters all tied to metal and steel while their enemies cut them open repeatedly, ripping out organ after organ, muscle after muscle until all that was left was blackness. Wings in tatters and empathy falling short, the angels would scream and shriek at their brethren before becoming lords in the very place they had once despised. The moon whispered that he would never go their and the gold whispered something inaudible to all but the Moon. She shushed him, calling the gold Jibril and scolding him lightly for his words. Angel giggled at their argument.

Moon caressed him in her light and whispered to him to sleep, for in the morning light her brother would bother him no more. There was a tone to her voice that had the gold Jibril cringing back in amused fright and the sun's light dying quicker than normal. This, too, started a say that should be familiar to most men.

_Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. _To go further into this, _Hell hath no fury like an infuriated Moon goddess who's adopted baby angel just got nightmare inducing tales told to him by her very own brother. Pass the bow and arrows._ In his hiding place deep inside the abyss, Sun cringed. God above, this was going to be an interesting night.

**This may seem slightly sexist, but it's not. Women are most compared to earth and water, sometimes spirit though that goes two ways. As for the elements being personified, fire represents a bad temper but a heart full of both love and leadership. Air represents clarity, a link between people and a flexibility towards life if a little cold and detached from the world. Earth is steadfast and patient but adverse to change. Water is sensitive but sometimes uses this against people. Spirit is flighty and often unattainable and can be many shades of gray, or any color really. Yes, this came off of a website for astronomy so this isn't mine either. Disclaimer at the top. Not mine.**

**Wait. Supernatural doesn't own baby Gabriel. Oh my sweet merciful Sammy, he's up for grabs… REVIEW!**


	3. Forget Me?

**I've decided to do a few more days of baby Gabriel before adding larger time skips. They won't be big ones at first but they'll be moderate, so I'll put the passing time in brackets with the title of the chapter. Look for it and Gabriel's age in human and angel years. Hopefully, this won't get to confusing for anyone. Or me. That would be terrible…**

**Disclaimer: Dear Father, who art no longer in Heaven, I must confess a sin. Or a blessing, depending on how you look at it. I lack the owning rights to SP. 'bawls guiltily'.**

Chapter Three: Forget Me? _(7 days old)_

It hadn't taken long for Angel to realize that the insides of that golden gate weren't open to him. Not like he could crack the seal holding them together or wait until the gatekeeper came, or simply fly over. Fledglings were meant to be kept in the safe confinements of Heaven's 'daycare', if you will. When a baby angel fell, they landed on fluffy cloud and were in no way injured. Now, when _Gabriel _fell, storm clouds that were more full of electricity than water rumbled at him and gave him several painful jolts to his poor calves. He didn't cry anymore after discovering how pointless it was. I suppose he was fortunate to be quite intelligent for a baby.

Unfortunately, he was quite intelligent for a baby _angel._ Which brought out an even more horrible place than the Dark World? His own mind. Scenarios played out in his head as he daydreamed while staring at the clouds, painful daydreams that would take a long, long time to be fulfilled. First and foremost was finally meeting one of his brothers and sisters for more than five minutes. Before he could do that, he needed to get through the gates, impossible since the gatekeeper had a horrible sense of timing and had decided to sing with the choir for the next thousand years or more. He knew because he'd heard him and quite frankly, the tuning was extremely off. At least Angel knew why he wanted the time off. After all, the gates would keep out Dark Creatures well enough on it's own. It wasn't as if the demons could break through magic that strong.

In the case of a certain fledgling, this also meant _he _was kept out until the gatekeeper's pitch was better. At least he hoped it would get better…

Out here, beyond the gates and the warriors behind it, Angel suffered in silence. Seven times he had spoken to Moon, though she had been quiet for the first two but after that, Sun made no move to scare him. And if said deity shone just a bit dimmer, then who was to say it wasn't just fatigue? He almost felt sorry for the poor guy, if only that pity hadn't been reserved for himself. It was lonely out in the battle zone and almost daily he sat and watched as brothers and sisters died fighting off small hordes of demons. When all that was left were charred feathers and black bones he would butt scoot to the remnants of his brethren and joined Moon in a song of mourning. No, his first songs weren't lullabies but last rights for the brave, heavily scarred Legion that was so often looked down upon.

They were thought of as ugly, stupid brutes but Angel knew it wasn't true. Jibril enforced this knowledge with pictures and scenes just barely suited for a baby his age. Generals planning for hours and hours, archers determining length, height, wind speed, enemy speed and velocity of their arrows, swordsman weighing their enemies strength before pitting it against their own…why did no one else see it? Humming sadly, Angel caressed a slender imprint made of charred wings and felt just a tiny flickering in it. Amarel was the scout of her garrison and in the end, like a true scout, she had run headlong into danger trying to rescue the youngest of her flock. It was sad that at only a week old, a baby was more familiar with death than the ancient Seraphim.

Not that they would care anyways.

The eight wings on their back had grown to symbolize more than just their occupation, but their status in Heaven. It wasn't hard to see that beneath all the glamour their wings were just as dull and even lifeless compared to the Legions. They were thin nearly paper-like in their weakness. Seraphim had no need to fly into a battle, to fight and die for something ingrained into their very beings from the start. To reiterate this, they were prejudiced. Without their holy glow of Grace, they were nothing more than what they should have been, albeit with egos that could possibly fill a walk-in closet. The Lindsey Lohan kind. Not that anyone knew who she was yet, so it was more along the lines of Death's wardrobe. It was huge but the only thing in it was this shapeless cloak in all shades of black which, come to think of it, there's only two, really.

Safe to say that he had confused _himself _this time.

After a rousing chorus of wordless hymns, he babbled a bit before going on with his short little life. So far, he had hosted around thirty private funerals for his siblings and hadn't seen a single living, nonviolent being in all his life. Irakiel didn't exactly count as nonviolent but he was getting there. Or at least he would. Counseling, he had heard, worked wonders for temperaments. Chuckling sweetly with a little hint of mischief in his eyes, Angel butt scooted his way back to the Gate to spy on his brothers. At first it was Jibril telling him to get blackmail, whatever that was, on the fighting members of Heaven but it quickly turned into an all day crying jag when he saw little fledglings being cradled in wings and having their own feathers groomed. His own downy ones were in complete disarray and were quite frankly starting to itch.

Squirming and whimpering, he looked to Moon for her soothing voice only to discover she wasn't awake yet. Sun didn't give a damn and would continue to not give a damn for fear of life and limb. A cloud tried to be helpful and succeeded in getting his feathers damp and matted. Huffing with a blank look on his face, the fledgling merely shuffled over to the side and fell into a sulk. Now, normally angel sulks last for several decades but Angel had this thing that nowadays would be called ADHD. Then? Well, there really was no name for it because there was only one angel to have it. Also, it's debatable whether or not Raphael had OCD, or Lucifer was a sociopath or Michael had PTSD. That would come much, much later in the form of a human psychiatrist who promptly became a duck. Thus where the term 'quack' came from.

That was what Jibril said. Jibril could get pretty annoying when he didn't stop talking for a while until he actually did shut up. Then Angel got pretty lonely. So everything was pretty much relative in a way that made absolutely no sense and should he perhaps find a butterfly instead? They were very pretty, those butterflies. Actually they were hideous until they came out of that cloth-y thing but Angel still thought that they were beautiful. Not as beautiful as the amazingly colorful moths but in their own right, gorgeous. Gabriel giggled at the butterfly flapping it's way by his face and didn't even wonder why it had traveled beyond the gates. The birds never had and their wings worked just as well as the butterfly's. Perhaps they were simply too afraid to leave Heaven.

The butterfly fluttered around his head once more before brushing it's wings against Angel's nose. A whole group of the colorful creatures flocked around him in a mass, guiding him towards something. Said something was a flower, tightly closed. It almost seemed to be weeping. All around it were bright, colorful blooms, basking in the sun and welcoming the butterflies. But the creatures seemed to want this one. The flower was a plain little thing, just a green bud with little bits of purple showing behind the leaves. It didn't have the color of a rose, the brightness of a moonflower or the delicacy of a lily. However the way it grew, small and strong, made the babe curious. He touched it gently and at once, felt great sadness turn to joy. The flower spoke to him in it's whispery, windy voice and it did something that awoke sympathy in his Grace.

The flower asked for a name.

It had been hidden for so long while the others blossomed and thrived, becoming practically invisible to all but the butterflies. Nobody had seen fit to name the tiny thing. It hit dangerously close to home with Angel, who's eyes started to water as he cooed back to the plant. He reached out with a hand and petted the little flower with a soft frown on his face. It had been forgotten much like he, without a name or a proper place in the haven he could possibly call home. No one saw him beyond the beauty that surrounded him except for a small, considered insignificant to some, creature that flitted about on beautiful wings. Perhaps in time, he could be like the forgotten little flower. Leaning close the fledgling opened now golden eyes and allowed the squirming Jibril access to his mind. The entity reached out to the plant and breathed, _You are the Forget-Me-Not. Never again will you be overlooked because you will grow everywhere and be any color, any shape you have wish to be. Revel in this freedom, be carried high and in another's heart, for another's heart. Be a symbol of remembrance for those long past and be seen as fidelity, respect and love._

Forget-Me-Not. It was perfect. It was also surprising Jibril used such amazing words to describe it. Usually, it would go something like this. _Okay, uh, shit. Hold on, little dude. Let's see, rose is taken, sunflower is taken but then again, that doesn't look like a sunflower to me. Lily? No, too pretentious. Wait! Hey, they __**forgot **__to name the little guy! This is perfect! Call him a Forget-Me-Not. _It was a good name but just imagining that speech would be enough to make Michael gag. Angel was therefore quite impressed with the seriousness given to the situation and squeed ecstatically. The newly named flower bloomed into brilliant purple, white and pink flowers with five petals to each, tiny and perfectly round. All over Heaven, angels were making an expression that would henceforth be known as the _'WTF?' _face. When Jibril said they would be everywhere, he really meant it.

The butterflies stopped their continued fluttering and instead hovered close by his head to brush him with their wings. Abruptly, they flew off in a dazzling array of colors. A single moth took their place. Smaller than a butterfly, it's brilliant colors made it stand out quite vividly amongst the blinding white of Heaven. Squinting somewhat in the glare, Angel though it looked quite becoming of the moth. Until it flew straight into one of the older fledgling's path. From the other side of the gate, Angel gawked as the fledgling gave a sadistic grin and completely toasted the poor critter. Shuddering slightly, he pitied the fledgling given to this one in a few decades. Suffering had no place in Heaven and even though he wasn't connected to his brothers, he didn't have to go through what the unmade little one would. After all, it wasn't as if he'd been put on the Rack in the Dark Place that smelt of dead things and rot. As a single wing floated to the ground a malicious grin grew on the slightly older boy's face as he plucked it from the clouds and shoved it into a robe pocket.

Hissing through his teeth, Angel glared heatedly at the other and decided then and there that he would hate this brother for an eternity. Around him plants withered and died. Animals fled and those that didn't were quickly roasted. There was only blackness for this one with no guiding light that could possibly save him. Watching silently as the boy's guardian scooped up the suddenly innocent angel, the babe's lips puckered a bit and a shrewd light gleamed in his eyes. Everything would be alright. This brother would be gone soon and though his deeds were terrible the hatred had ebbed away and brought instead feelings of guilt and unease. Angels were supposed to be pure. If this one was not, then how many others were like him? It is a terrible fact of life that nobody ever will look beyond what their own eyes can see. From that point on, Angel promised himself to always look beyond the mask to whatever lay beneath. He would cast no judgments or condemnation, only take a peek.

A brush of emotion came from the sleepy Moon. Pride, sadness and doubt. She was proud of him for making this promise but sad for the way he had made it. Seeing anything truly die was hard. His fallen brothers had been long gone by the time he got there and hadn't actually seen anything. To have one of his very own siblings murder something innocent, a friend, was unbearable. Being so young, it was easy for Angel to suppress it yet Moon knew he would always know in his heart that the Grace he had seen that evening was nearly gray. Something so young and so lost, his complete opposite. Angel had been literally lost. This fledgling she was staring at now was lost in another sense of the word. There was no hope for him. God had never listened to the Moon, however, so she wasn't about to tell him now. Azazel, the angel he had created in anger and suffering, was little more than that himself. He would be a prince in hell, only surpassed by two others.

Moon blinked for the first time in her life. None noticed the momentary blackness over the clouds or the soft rain that followed. None noticed the day that Moon broke her own heart and slowly slipped away from the Heavens she couldn't bear to watch any longer. Only one knew and understood but he was too young. Much too young to understand. Why such things were done, how she could slowly grow quieter and quieter until she was nothing more than a whisper and a memory. Moon did so slowly but pull away she did. And down below her a fledgling watched with large eyes as the moon's light faded by a small amount and knew it wouldn't last for much longer. In the rain he sat, wondering if he was so invisible that no other could see him except those above. Moon's tears mixes with his own to form glowing drops of water. Someday, this may be called morning dew but it's really one of the last things the two shared.

Jibril took Moon's place that night. Singing lowly, he recited this poem.

_We are ignorant as the sky_

_And in the bounds of Heaven we fly_

_No hearts or minds or souls have we_

_And no will to be on our own._

_No songs to sing of endless love,_

_Grace to give like the wings of a dove,_

_Though true enough is our memory,_

_That we will forget you not._

_For the moonlight shining yet above,_

_We forget you not._

_For the secrets once shared between,_

_Please forget us not._

_So though our hearts will break_

_With the pain too much to take,_

_Remember us still,_

_For a promise fulfilled,_

_Forget me not._

For all the joy in Heaven he could not see it. The song was filled with emotions too complicated to even hesitate to understand. Loneliness, sorrow, longing, all whispered in a sad lullaby. Angel sang quietly a song of his own and as Moon looked, drawn and hopeless, she saw that there may yet be something she could do. Not enough to make a difference, truly, but anything to stop the pain in both of their hearts. Whispering in his ears, she told him a story and gave him an ally in the process.

'_**Years ago, I was an angel. One of our Father's beloved Seraphim. He named me Lunael and gave my brother and I a place at His side. We were happy until Soliel wished for more than he deserved, trying to take my power for his own. He discredited me and turned our family against me until I had nothing left but hope. My life was a cruel one but I fell in love. Not with a good being but a monster who killed in the dark of the night. He was so gentle to me that I couldn't help but fall. I cleansed the blood from his body every morning and held him as he cried. It was never his choice to become the way he was and he had prayed every night for mercy to be taken upon him, to die by the hand of an angel. Sol wanted to be the one to do it. He begrudged me every moment of happiness spent with what few friends I had until he managed to ruin it all.**_

_**After the first attempt, I began to fight back. Water and Earth fought at my side against their own brothers. I must admit that we were quite merciless in our battle. The aftermath is what you see here, child. Soliel was punished for his transgressions but I was just as guilty for mine. Yet when He saw my eyes He softened. He told me that for as long as I had hope there would always be a place for me. We were given warnings and let go. On his second attempt, I stabbed by brother through the leg with my trident and left him there, bleeding and screaming as I turned my back. We were again warned away from the path we were taking and let go. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. Bringing my love to Father, He looked grave indeed and asked my love what he had done to deserve such a curse to be put upon him. Lycan looked ashamed when he told them he had stolen a cub from it's mother. I was shocked.**_

_**But Father simply sighed. Lycan whispered that the child was a runt left to die in the woods, or until the mother came to finish her off. I wrapped him in my wings and asked if the cub was alive. She was, as he told me, very much alive and at that moment my brother stabbed him in the heart. He died in my arms. Father was grief stricken. That was the day I ripped off my brother's wings and he mine. Blood ran through the rocks as we fought, mingling together in thick streams. We were separated. God did the one thing he could do to make Lycan's orphaned son's curse less harmful to His children and at the same time, keep Soliel and I apart. Without our wings, he threw my brother into the sky and told him that he would forever prevent the horrors of what he himself had done in the future.**_

_**My punishment was similar though not out of spite or shock. With his hands under my arms, God placed me in the black sky and asked me to shine light on the wicked so that they would always be found. My power had always been stronger than my brother's and so I became a guardian. Any who felt the same hatred I did will have comfort in the moonlight. They will look on me and realize that they will never truly be alone as long as there is the slightest sliver of my Grace. But that time is ending, little angel. No one looks upon my face anymore. My brother is favored, his transgressions forgiven and forgotten. God worries overmuch about his creations or perhaps, not enough. This is no place for me. As soon as I am gone, I promise that my brother will follow. Do not worry, fledgling. We will be alright.'**_

Angel felt tears pool in his eyes. All around Heaven, there was the howling of wolves as Lycan's illegitimate children cried for their mistress. It was sad and haunting. Moon finally told him that she wouldn't leave right away and that he would never notice her absence. He doubted that.

Unheard in the back of his mind, Jibril shamefully agreed with moon. _You are too innocent, fledgling. I hate to know the cause of our heartbreak. At least the wolves walk beside us._

Perhaps there is more hidden behind a smile than he once thought.

**Alright. So the poem is made by yours truly. Feel free to steal it for whatever you want…although I wouldn't know why you would. I made that thing in five minutes. Moon's story is like a mix of standing up to bullying and Artemis the Greek goddess loving Orion. Lycan is, of course, a werewolf who used to be an angel scout. I guess their like a level of host less demons. Review, please! And vote in the poll on my page! Even if said page looks like shit… I was actually thinking of Amanda Todd when I wrote Moon's story. Consider it a memorial with a crappy poem.**


	4. Arms of the Angels

**So, I suck at the whole scheduled writing plan. I'm updating this now. Vote in the poll on my page, even if you hate the story, or else you may end up hating it even more. Yes, readers, I'm putting it up to you on who dies during the Leviathan mess. I'm also completely redoing season 8 so send in ideas if you want to see them in action. Seriously, it was terrible. This is, as you, know, the prequel and since I don't have to watch the actual episode I'm posting this first. Hopefully I'll have the next chapter of 'Wake up this week or next. Sorry for the disappointment!**

**Disclaimer: If I owned the series, it would have been off the air long ago. I'm too lazy to do work.**

Chapter Four: Arms of the Angels (5 months old)

Angel was smarter now.

He knew what happened outside of the golden gates and why. He knew that nobody would come for them and if not for Jibril, that he would definitely die alone. With but the ashes of his already fallen siblings, which don't speak, by the way, to keep him company, it's a wonder he was still breathing. Angel had never actually run into another living angel after being thrown out of the garden, but demons he'd seen plenty of. Angel shivered. Demons. Not the beautiful daemons that their father had created as companions for the Archangels, or even twisted versions of them. Just…evil.

One could say that he'd been touched by that evil. Angel's wings no longer shone like the sun, instead showing ash-covered down. His eyes were glinting slightly amber in the light, as if demon blood had been splashed into them to mingle with the pure gold. And he had grown. Not much but still, he could now walk amongst the thorns and broken weapons like a reaper with the damned. One dying brother had looked at him in actual fear, wondering if he was a prince in Hell come to torture him for all of eternity. Apparently the princes were beautiful, but Angel didn't know that. He took to hiding his face with his now long golden hair. It had grown quickly and now went down to his shoulders in endless tangles.

Not that the sight of his wings were much better. Sooty as they were, the feathers were an absolute mess since there was nobody to teach him how to straighten them. Angel could admit to using those symbolic gates as a scratching post more than once, but they _itched._ He molted constantly and the feathers were practically dead as they fell all around him. Like rose petals. He was quite the sight to see and for the few who lived through those battles outside the gates, they never mentioned the tiny wraith that flittered through them with an impenetrable shroud of darkness. Exaggeration, it seems, is not just a human trait.

Admittedly, they thought he was Death, for even though they knew the Horseman to be locked away by Michael and the Lord himself it was still petrifying to them. The Legion knew fear and Death like an old nightmare and some even put them together, but others had a certain respect for Death. An end and the beginning of something else, something unknown and with a certain beauty to it. Of course, they had never met him and had no wish to but some, a rare few, were curious.

And that was how the young angel Erael found a brother.

He had just joined the Legion and wasn't ready to die. Maybe that was why the Horseman left him alone and slaughtered the others. Out of all of them, he knew he was obviously alive and the ones who had fled back over the gates were cowards, but would live to fight another day. He wouldn't. The pain in his wing assured him of that. Stupid tone-deaf gatekeeper…

He was going to die out here. Maybe Death was a cruel master, after all. Then he was tickled by a little something right under his eye. Erael reached up and plucked a tiny piece of down from his skin, then gasped softly. A fledgling's feather. There was a fledgling? Out _here?_ he glanced around wildly then caught the tiny wraith that was rumored to haunt the battlefield of Heaven's doorstep. He stifled a gasp. "Oh, _father."_

Pain forgotten, he rushed forward as quickly as possible to scoop the fluffy bundle of joy into his arms. The very dirty, disheveled, squirmy, cuddly bundle of feathers. His first glimpse of the fledgling was it's eyes. Wide and golden, they were blinking up at him in an almost stunned manner through the mass of hair. Like he wasn't expecting anyone to come for him. But Ereal's first poke of Grace was met with a surprised squeal and even more squirming. Cuddling it gently, he slowly processed the surprisingly powerful Grace that met his own. As the baby stopped moving, Erael's blood boiled. He didn't have a name and he was almost certainly a new angel. He was so adorably tiny, yet he had been here for months alone with all of this death.

Meanwhile, Angel was in shock. He was getting smarter and he had known that no one would notice him. He _hadn't _known that this would happen. But he liked it. He sunk into the arms cradling him and hummed happily when long fingers carded their way through his tangled hair. A rocking motion startled him from his daze as he realized that they were moving towards the lake. The arms put him down gently and then there was wet and cold and _uck!_ all over him. The hair that was already in his face began to course into his slightly opened mouth, causing all the grime to meet his tongue. Hacking on it, he started hiccupping and reaching for the owner of the arms.

Erael scooped him up again and waded into the water with him, sitting the fledgling in his lap and moving the mess of tangles away from the tiny face. He began working at the knots as carefully as he could but there were a few stubborn ones that needed to be tugged on. The little whimper was nothing compared to the fuss Raphael had made when Lucifer got burrs in his hair. That obnoxious caterwaul could be heard for miles, as well as the scolding Lucifer got from Michael for his pains. It took immeasurable time to get all the kinks out and when he did, he gently plugged the wee fledgling's nose an dunked him underwater. He didn't even struggle; just relaxed and floated back to the surface.

Erael was pretty sure he loved this fledgling.

Once he was all clean, the warrior got a better look at his charge and practically choked on air. He had pupil less eyes, gold rimmed with amber. The amber hadn't been clear before now and they reminded him of Lucifer's eyes. God, the violet edged blue that could turn any angel to ice. This one warmed him, made him feel safe and loved. A fledgling made him feel like that. The wings were huge for his body and were a blazing, brilliant gold that forced him to turn his eyes away. His brother's hair was the same color. Flaxen even when wet. Running trembling fingers through it with heat at the tips, he dried it and carefully tied it back in a simple braid. This fledgling was precious, more so than any.

He had found a baby Archangel.

Falling slowly to his knees before the golden child, he murmured, "How has no one noticed you?"

Jibril popped in for a visit in someone else's mind for one. _Because nobody is looking for a fledgling. It isn't time for us to be found yet, brother. We will be alone for a good long while, but still. Better than being dead, incapacitated, decapitated, tortured or nailed to a cross and stoned. Wait. That hasn't happened yet. Point is, it's the lesser of most evils and truthfully, we haven't lived out our purpose yet. When we have done that, then we can come home for-well, not for good, but for very long time. _

Far beyond shock at this point, he asked, "Who are you and how do you know these things?"

The voice snorted. _You mean you can't tell? I'm this little bastard in a few million years. Okay, more than a few million years. Ain't I adorable? Getting on with it. Erael. That's you, right? My memory doesn't go that far back. Erael. You were the first of my brethren to show love and mercy instead of hatred and fear. You will be rewarded for that in time, although you now curse my future name and good-naturedly spar with me every day. At least I HOPE it's with good intentions… You never can tell, because of th-wait. Spoilers. Sorry._

Erael glanced at the tiny Archangel who was blinking up at him. He muttered, "Father, am I glad that you cannot talk yet! What, exactly, is a bastard?"

No answer.

The babe blinked up at him adoringly and he couldn't help but gather him up in his arms again. He cuddled close before falling into a restorative daze. Erael's eyes softened to twin puddles of green mush as he lifted them both out of the water. Striding back to shore with the youngster at hand, he thought about why he had been the one to find this precious gift from God. He was nothing special and nor was he of the Seraphim, who had raised all three of the Archangels with devoted care. His wings were not colorful or delicate, he had little experience in battle and most importantly, he hadn't the slightest idea how to care for a fledgling beyond cleaning one.

This had been comparatively tame compared to Zachariah's hissy-fit. It had been a favor that Erael would never again commit himself to.

Sluicing water from both his and the Archangelet's face, he sighed under his breath, "What am I to do with you, little one?"

He giggled. Obviously, the fledgling had little to no idea about what was going to happen to him or what he was trying to decide. But if that were true, why did the steadfast and understanding look in his eyes tell him just the opposite? It was slightly scary, so Erael just decided to pretend as if he had never seen it in the first place. He might keep his sanity intact, that way. With that decision made, he turned longingly towards the gates and the faint hymns he could hear from behind it. They were probably trying to drown out the Keeper. Didn't really do much good, though.

Thunder boomed beneath him and he knew that they would likely be electrocuted if he forced them to stay any longer. The flinch from his little limpet told him that yes, electrocution hurt and that is was indeed not a thing to be experienced by anyone at all. And then he realized that he didn't _actually _have a choice, since there was no shelter in Heaven's 'ghetto'. Not a tree(or at least, one that he wanted to climb) in sight, nor plant nor rocky outcrop for them to take shelter under. See, this was why Heaven should have a doorbell. Or an actual door to knock on. He mused about how stupid that idea was and absently wondered if someone would make something of it one day.

Nah.

Erael winced at the unhappy storm grumbling and moaning under his feet and he began to feel the first tingles of electricity. He thought about the consequences. _If I sleep in one of Irakiel's trees, we'll be safe until he actually finds us. Then he'll kill me slowly and painfully while making the fledgling watch. If I don't, we'll be electrocuted for Father knows how long._ Great. Life or death; either way, it was going to hurt. Being the serious angel that he was, Erael promptly climbed the tree furthest away from his brother's deathtrap and settled them down for the night.

The Archangelet settled sleepily on his lap, eyes drifting shut as his mouth gaped in a massive yawn. Again, being the serious angel that he was, Erael _did not _coo or aww about the adorableness of these actions and simply shut his eyes. The rain pattered away and unbeknownst to him, trickled like tears down the fledgling's exposed face. Hey, he never said he was _good _at caring for the babes. But said little one didn't actually mind and fought sleep for just a little while so he could watch the drops dance for him. And dance they did. Surrounded in a corona of subtle colors, they created pictures for him amongst the darkness of Heaven's outskirts, causing him to giggle and preen. The patter turned into his very own lullaby as the rain slowed, Erael never noticing. He was deep in meditation trying to reach that thrice-damned gatekeeper but the most information he received was about how his pitch was slowly improving.

Whoopee.

Well, he didn't notice and that was what might have saved them all in the end…nah, it's actually not all that important. Angel pouted sleepily, though, since his new guardian had missed the show. He got revenge by shifting and stepping upon a very sensitive place of the male angel's anatomy. The reaction was better than his water pictures.

As they say, the show must go on.

Making a strangled sound, like a cross between a moan and a scream, he slumped over and out of the tree. And right into a patch of Irakiel's Irises. The screaming of the flowers made a chorus with the miniscule whimpers that partially shamed him until he remembered he'd just gotten stomped on by a very tiny, yet strong foot straight to the nads. He was entitled to a little complaining. A giggling fledgling poked his head over the ledge, squeeing in delight at the angel curled up in a ball of misery amongst the broken stems. Then an angry Irakiel came. "You ***********, I'll ********************* you so hard your fledgling will feel it! Look what you've done to my plants, you *****************************!" **(In the interest of keeping this as short as possible, the author has left the creative swearwords to your own imagination. Just imagine them very long and descriptive, said in a homicidal fashion.)**

Angel's eyes widened at the new words and he inevitably decided to announce his presence to the world by attempting to repeat the cusses. The fury in the gardener's eyes was drawn out by mortification, guilt and a prayer of _Father, Michael would kill me if he found out…_

The unhappy gurgles signifying the fledgling's inability to say the complex ancient Enochian swears made him slump over in relief. The tree swatting him over the head with a disapproving branch helped, too. Erael moaned, "If he is yours, then in the name of our Father, I am begging you to take him. If not, take him anyways. It is less painful in the battalion."

The flowers hadn't exactly been forgotten about and so to add even more insult to injury he…well, suffice to say a fully grown angel kicking you in the nads is much more painful than those of the younger variety. Now, Erael would have been entirely content throughout his immortal life without knowing such things but even though Atropos hadn't been created yet, she still seemed to have a certain hatred for him. The reaction this time was no more than a squeak. The Archangelet didn't seem to like that much. He started chattering angrily at the gardener, waving his tiny arms for emphasis so that the tree had to wrap a branch around him for fear of falling. At the same time, it gave Irakiel an even harder whap on the head.

"Hey, whose side are you on anyways?" He grumbled about ungrateful plants and had to duck another branch. If trees could snicker, that one would have. Also, there was the unfortunate fact that all of the excitement had woken up Angel for good now and there was no need to stay in the tree when there was perfectly good grass on the ground. The ground that was a good ten feet down and would, at best, break his leg. At worst? Well, let's just say there wouldn't be the need for a caretaker. Amazingly enough, they didn't have to do anything. A massive female wolf trotted up to the tree, put her front paws on the branch and gently grabbed the fledgling from the tree.

Giggling, he cried out, "Lu'a! Lu'a!"

At least, that was what it sounded like anyways. Erael found himself a little too busy staring at the massive she-wolf with a fledgling clamped in her jaws. It wasn't unheard of for wild animals to attack the little babes so it was quite understandable, right up until she licked at his hair and gave him a major cowlick. He giggled again and clumsily clapped his hands. She gave him a short, impromptu bath while making a loud sound that, if she had been a cat, may have been mistaken for purring.

It didn't end there, either. Both his and Irakiel's jaws dropped when a doe poked her head through the brush and boldly walked straight up to the wolf. She almost seemed to raise an eyebrow before flopping over and letting her prey nuzzle and straighten the golden locks. The tickle of air against his ears made Angel give a full on belly laugh,, eyes twinkling as thunder rumbled below them. Then the moth came, along with several birds and a gerbil. Nobody had any idea where the gerbil came from.

There was now a veritable menagerie crawling around the fledgling. Foxes curled up around him to make an interesting fur coat, a bear roaring a warning at Irakiel, a duck settled on his head, there were snakes and lizards in his hair, a songbird was snuggled under his hand, an alligator was under his feet, Angel was currently sitting on a turtle and leaning against the wolf queen. In addition, there were mice scurrying around his feet, an owl who somehow found the room to perch on a little shoulder and when there was no more room, a massive vulture took up Erael's forearm and an osprey dug it's talons into a frozen Irakiel's head.

A voice laughed in his head. _Trust me, it gets better. Just wait for it._

An elephant then decided it wanted to join in and was summarily gawked at by he others, who attempted to vacate the premises when the creature made to sit down. The paralyzed angels just watched all of the chaos before Erael noticed the wolf crawling on her belly with the Archangelet in her maw. She glanced nervously behind her and kept scooting away. The babe simply giggled and yawned. For a thing so small, one would think he would be incapable of this. The voice snickered. _This? This is pretty small compared to what we're going to do to Lucifer when the time comes._Erael was pretty sure he was about to faint.

He was one hundred percent sure Irakiel already did.

**So, I'm alive. Don't kill me. Vote in poll, receive sleepy baby Angel cuddles. That is all.**


	5. Gabriel's First Word

**I****'****m back. I****'****m also getting on with it, because inspiration has struck. Gabriel****'****s first word!**

**Disclaimer: Very much not mine.**

Chapter Five: The Dreaded Words Begin (_Still same age)_

"F'ck."

"What is he trying to say, exactly? Because I really hope it's flower." Irakiel had given up on trying to get his unexpected guests to leave his garden and instead reluctantly sat staring at the fledgling laying happily on his back in the grass. Said fledgling was currently making interesting sounds with his mouth that sounded like speech, but more like blowing bubbles. The evidence of that being the spit currently running down his chin. Twitching in disgust, he watched Erael absently wipe it away with his sleeve. "What are you going to do with him, anyways?"

"Actually, I was hoping you could fly him over the gates."

_Idiot. _He refused to kick his brother for a third time. Instead, he stared into the encompassing golden eyes that stared unblinkingly up at him and counted to ten. As his temper calmed, he saw the babe start to smile in a way that delicately wrinkled his pert nose and offered up a single dimple on his cheek. He summarily refused to return it and instead said flatly, "I can't fly. Never could, really. My wings are too small to lift me off of the ground."

The baby babbled again, "S't," and somehow managed to wriggle his way not only towards Irakiel but also into his lap, up his chest, over his shoulder and to his deformed wings. He cooed happily at the muted yip the gardener gave and started to pet the beyond messy feathers. It…well, it actually felt _really good._ Sighing blissfully, he allowed the little one to shake all of the dead feathers loose and straighten them in a babyish parody of preening. It's babyish because the feathers were still all over the place, the mess just included his hair now. Another giggle brought him up and over back onto the ground in a surprisingly agile slide. Pumping his chubby arms up and down he pouted and cooed, "'ikkel. 'ucver. 'phael."

"Did he just say Michael, Lucifer and Raphael?"

"No, I'm pretty sure I heard little, ulcer and fail. Relax, Irakiel, he can't speak yet." Erael looked completely unconcerned that his charge had, albeit in a language completely unknown to adult angels, invoked the names of the Archangels.

The baby pouted angrily and shrieked, "F'ck!"

"I'm going to go out on a limb and say that he picked up on my swearing." This statement garnered him an exasperated look that screamed 'do-you-really-think-so?' "What?" he defended. "It's not like I spelt them out for him. Honestly, you've never sworn in front of a fledgling?…stop looking at me like that." Bitch-face number one. Like, first ever. Now you know. He sighed. "Okay, fine. I am a terrible minder who should, admittedly, not be anywhere within a hundred miles of a fledgling." Pause. "Ever."

Golden eyes condemned him. Pink lips that shaped the sound barely off from 'fuck'. He got the sense that he should be proud of his influence over the young angel but, really, Baby's First Swear Word? Not a momentous occasion. Sighing, he rubbed his face with a hand and shrugged. "So, what are we going to do with him? Raise him out here, where wild things and demons can murder us all or toss him over the gate and hope he learns to fly?"

Erael gave him a look of disbelief and exasperation. "You mean you haven't noticed yet?" At his brother's hesitant headshake, he muttered, "Of course you haven't." Louder, he said, "Look at his eyes. Don't they remind you of someone else's?"

Grumbling, he looked deep into the golden eyes and didn't look away. The fledgling didn't blink, allowing him to look into his gaze without obstruction. This continued for a good long while, too. So long, in fact, that twenty minutes later the fledgling was starting to nod off. Irael hadn't really noticed anything different about the golden eyes, other than their colou-wait. Was that… "Amber. His eyes are gold and amber. Aren't Lucifer's said to have a ring of violet on the outside?"

"And Michael has silver while Raphael has red."

"…Oh, Father. He's an Archangel, isn't he?"

As if to commemorate the occasion, the fledgling trilled a perfect B flat and grabbed his tiny wings. Erael managed to stop him from suckling on them, then flipped him over gently onto his belly amidst the squeals of laughter. Giving him a gentle poke earned him another ecstatic giggle and then he was running fingers over his back to try and find the extra joints. Archangel wings grew slowly (and, judging by the fuss Raphael had made, painfully) from the joints beneath their skin until the time was suitable during angelic puberty to make their bid for freedom. Erael had never been so glad to be a member of the Legion. He was also thankful that Michael and Lucifer had been specifically created with six wings; both had been so spoiled, he would have hated to see what would happen when the time came. He imagined mass panic.

They were there protruding delicately against the milky white skin; bony little knobs that would grow over thousands of years to form the Archangel's signature six-winged grace. He traced them with his finger in wonder until he pressed a little too hard and made the fledgling cry. They were also sensitive, evidentially. Amazingly enough, it was Irakiel who picked him up. He held him above his head and gave him a gentle toss, much to the delight of the now laughing fledgling. "You aren't that bad with him," Erael commented. "You could probably handle one of your own, if you cut back on the swearing and violent tendencies."

Irakiel shivered and decided not to say something stupid, such as _I__'__ll show you violent tendencies!_ The wide eyes of the fledgling were innocent, surprisingly enough. He…didn't want to change that. Not so soon. "It's not that I don't want a fledgling, brother. I know how to take care of one and I actually have before, but…I'm just not ready for another."

Sudden understanding dawned in Erael's eyes. "What happened to it?"

Irakiel swallowed. "Her name was Acarael** (AN: A-ka-rell. It just sounds better that way)**. She was a beautiful little bugger, too. All dark hair and oversized wings, full of mischief and always underfoot. It's my fault, you know. See, I'm supposed to protect this garden with my life and I can never leave it. This is the job that God gave me as soon as I was out of my down feathers. Then he gave me Acarael and I had another thing to look after, something just as important to me as this garden is to Father. She loved me, I think. Looked up to me, certainly, or else she never would have done what she did.

We're outside the gates, obviously, so the demon attacks are horrendous but they never get through the battalions. Well, one did. A great big brute with red eyes and horns the length of Michael's wings. He was covered in blue blood, too. From head to toe there wasn't a place left on his soul that hadn't been coated in angelic gore." Irakiel paused to swallow. A tiny chirrup escaped the fledgling's throat and he looked up at the gardener with an intense stare and snuggled deeper into his cradle. "And so, I took up my bow and fired three arrows straight into his chest. They didn't even make him stagger and suddenly, there was a horn imbedded in my shoulder. It's… I barely even remember it anymore."

Erael whispered, "The attack?"

"No, fool. The pain. I think it hurt, but all I could remember was a tiny little blur speeding through the trees, bearing the smallest sword I'd ever seen in my entire existence. Her aim was perfect; my little girl hit him right in the eye. Killed him instantly, but the beast hit the ground before I could move. Hit _her_. He skewered her right through the middle, a perfect slice through her midsection and then, she was gone. I'd been thrown off when the demon fell and…well, I tried to put her back together again. Acarael was gone, though. She was too young to turn to soot, so I was still holding her when Michael himself came. By my Grace, I have never seen any being look at something so small with such distain. It was like the death of a fledgling was perfectly fine to him…"

Angel unnoticeably stiffened in anger. It was a new emotion for him and his entire body howled with it. Jibril whispered in his head about how bad that was, how Michael had betrayed both himself and others with his distain of the Legion and all that they entailed. How a simple gardener was not worthy of the presence of Heaven's prince. The words were cold and bitter when he whispered _We will show them, one day. They will learn how precious life is the hardest way possible and we will learn as well. How easy it is to take it away when it doesn__'__t mean anything to you. How easy it is to simply tear off their wings and let them fall to Hell and into a blistering inferno, to be worshipped as a monster forevermore. Or, maybe__…__just how easy it is to want to forget._

Angel stared solemnly at the crying angel and patted him softly on the cheek, because that was what Jibril told him to do. He babbled nonsense and stared up at him through thick blonde eyelashes, amber ring glowing and swirling as he batted his wings around restlessly. His lips tried again and again to form the word he wanted so desperately to say. After a few bumbling tries, he got out his first articulate word. And it wasn't a swear. "Live."

And that was that. The two angels stared at the little one in their midst and murmured, "Well, that was anticlimactic."

Angel squawked in indignation and promptly stomped away from his unimpressed audience. Here, he tries to give good advice and they were eyeing him as if he had something more to give! Squeaking grumpily, he threw himself down about twenty feet away from the grown angels and started pouting with all his might. Irakiel raised an eyebrow at the tiny back and, unimpressed, snorted, "Yeah, yeah, we get it. You aren't happy. Come back over here, little brat." Walking over in just a few strides, he scooped him up and peered into heavy-lidded eyes. "Oh, you're tired are you? Need a lullaby?" The fledgling stared at him and instead began to sing to himself. The notes rose and fell soothingly and before long, the babe wasn't the only one who needed a good nap. Sighing sleepily, he murmured, "You're good, I'll give you that. Come on. I need a little communion after that."**(AN: Adult angels don't sleep.)**

Erael had already nestled himself against a tree trunk and had his eyes half-lidded, attempting to cut through the jumble of angelic voices to send out a rescue beacon. The gardener settled in a patch of long grass that sighed and wrapped itself around him like an over affectionate duvet with the fledgling laying horizontally in his lap. Strangely enough, _his _blanket was made of butterflies. Irakiel blinked and shook it off. Archangels were mysterious creatures. It was better not to question what happened around them for fear of going quite moderately insane. Soon, amazingly loud snores started issuing from the throat of this particular Archangel, one that made the gardener question how in the name of Heaven such a small creature could be so remarkably loud.

Shaking his head and staring up at the stars, he whispered the old lullaby that he used to sing for Acarael before falling into a trance, praying that they all wake up the next day.

_**In the darkness, God breathed unto the earth and whispered, May there be life and love forevermore.**_

True to his prayers, he did indeed live to see another glorious sunrise. Oddly enough, the sun almost seemed to beat down on him until, even odder, the moon started to rise again. After that, it cooled down rather quickly. With a curious hum, he carefully extracted himself from the fledgling and his butterfly blanket and began to do his duty to the garden. Singing under his breath, he gathered water in a golden bucket and, taking handful after handful, sprinkled it with ease over all over the plants that resided in his home.

He did the same thing every morning just as the sun rose from the east and again the moment it started to set in the west. This ensured that every living thing thrived under his tender care. He crooned to the crocuses, stroked the petals of a lily and carried the water plants to the lake. The trees swayed and groaned as he stripped them of their dead, heavy burden of leaves and the birds flitted around showing off their perfect wings. Sighing, just like he did every other morning, he ignored them but his song became a little more strained.

The unhappy coo of a child stopped the bird in their mystical and unattainable flight. They froze, wings still beating, and landed on a tree. The babe scowled at them and rubbed his eyes with a chubby hand, hair unruly from sleep and falling down in a combination of curls, waves and complete ringlets. _The infamous fledgling hair; it will get better with age_, Irakiel thought wryly. _Or at least I hope it will. _Finger-combing the snarls, he lifted the babe to sit on his hip as he scolded the birds. _Most definitely an Archangel, _he thought in amusement as the birds hung their heads in shame.

Bowing his head to hide his smile, he made his way over to the small pond and the willow trees growing around it. The matriarch lifted the child with tendrils as the glade buzzed with excitement. "She will watch you for me, child. Or at least until Erael finally gives up all hope of rejoining his garrison." It sounded cruel, but it was true. Nobody wanted to visit God's glorious garden or it's sullen keeper. Not even for family, evidently. Sighing, he muttered as he walked away, "The sooner he realizes it, the better."

Angel watched him go sadly, with a look in his eyes that spoke of things to come that he would never be able to avoid. Looking away, he stared at the entrance to the garden and finally, after a few moments of simply staring, closed his eyes. Erael had a destiny to fulfill and he wasn't a part of it. He enjoyed looking to the future because it was so much brighter, until he looked maybe just a little teeny-tiny bit too far. Then it was more like Hell than home. Sighing, he curled up in the willow tree and listened to her steady thrumming whispers. Looking to the sky, he repeated the word, "Live." _Please._

Meanwhile, Erael had finally given up. Fourteen hours of communion and he had been drowned out by praises, song and Michael giving foolish commands to a very unimpressed and equally loud Legion. Pinching the bridge of his nose and resisting the temptation to just scream, he got up and started following his brother's trail of Grace. Walking through a heavy copse of trees, he slowed to watch Irakiel trail a finger across an unopened flower, making it quiver and burst into a full beautiful bloom. The humming of a bee coming up behind him made him glance over to see another plant in full bloom, perfect for the gathering of insects coming his way.

Stepping less lightly, he made his presence known with a soft hum and the snap of a stick. Irakiel's head snapped towards him in surprise, before he gave a sardonic, bitter smile. "Finally gave up, then?"

He didn't deign his brother with a response. Shuffling gracefully around the clearing, he delicately stroked a yellow songbird's black-capped head before turning to Irakiel and muttering, "I know you think me a fool but I have faith in our Father and our siblings to do the best that they can to find me. I love our family and I will spend the next hundred years trying to speak to them, if that is what it takes. They may think me a coward for not dying just as you think me a fool for trying to die, but at least they have accepted me."

That…stung. Erael had a slightly shocked look on his face as he took in his previous words. _I__'__m sorry, brother, _was what he wanted to say but he refrained in the interests of keeping his limbs attached to the rest of his torso. Irakiel had a stormy look on his face that warned against any kind of interaction friendly or otherwise. He swallowed and just let him walk away before he said something else he knew he would regret.

Angel peered curiously between the trees as Irakiel stormed between them but he knew better than to make a sound. Chirping a little, he sat against a large cougar that laid purring contentedly on the branch. Jibril was telling him sad things that he was trying to ignore, even if he knew they were true. _Nothing lasts forever _was a big one. _They won__'__t remember us for much longer _and_ it won__'__t hurt much. I promise, _was one he could take to heart. It did hurt, though. It hurt so, _so _much that he completely blocked out the pain and put a toothy little smile on his face, one that may have looked a little too forced but Jibril had assured him would become much better over time. He wasn't quite sure he wanted that.

Burbling and waving his arms in pretty patterns, he played with the rain and created pictures of angels he had never met and maybe never will. He just wanted to see he was missing for the little while longer that he was outside the big golden gates. Angel squealed in ecstasy when his pictures landed on a golden-haired warrior with six incredibly slender, strong wings and markings in old Enochian with the same toothy smile as the one he was wearing now. Jibril was right; it did get better. Or at least more believable. Another angel with white-blond hair shorn close to his head and with sharper runes glared out of the water, commanding respect in a way that was both awing and kind of annoying.

The next angel brought a hush to the clearing as everything turned to look at his picture, just as beautiful as he was in real life. Lucifer, the perfect Morning Star. White wings were speckled delicately with warm shades of gold, soothing browns and a dozen shades of red all coating the softly shimmering white-grey feathers. They were immaculate, just like the emotionless mask on his olive-toned skin. Grey eyes shone with violet, matching his shining grey armor and the longbow etched with protective runes. He was everything that Angel could hope to be. _No, _whispered Jibril. _WE are everything we can hope to be. Lucifer has his own path that we cannot follow._

Angel wrinkled his nose and disagreed. Lucifer was loved and immortalized in the hearts of all of Heaven, even their Father's. Everyone knew that the Morning Star was God's favorite, even Michael. He was proud of his brother for all that he had done. Who was there to be proud of him? Certainly not God. There was a sense of bitterness to the thought that Jibril evidently caught, but he remained silent. Sighing, Angel climbed higher into the willow tree with a sense of resignation and knowing that his involvement would only ruin more lives.

_**And the protector, Michael, became a light in the darkest evening to light the evil so they would be found**_

Irakiel blinked up at the midday sun as he gently prodded at a beetle to move on from a white lilac bush, while at the same time shaking pineapple juice from his hands. Don't ask him why. He hadn't seen Erael since that morning and he was starting to wonder if the younger angel had simply left the garden and his fledgling behind. From what he could see, the babe had climbed farther up the tree under the narrow-eyed watch of a cougar. He would keep watch in case the little Archangel started to fall but so far everything had gone safely.

Crashing in the underbrush made him jerk his head to the side. Snorting in irritation, he waited for Erael to show his face so he could kick him again but instead he got hit with a breeze filled with tainted sulfur and scorching hellfire. It made him choke on his next breath as he looked from the fledgling to the forest he had been commanded to protect with his life. The babe stared at him sadly and hid himself in the crook of a branch before the willow tree hid him from sight. Moving quietly, he sprinted to his weapons cache and withdrew his longbow and short sword before creeping through the bushes and tracking the burning footprints.

Running through the garden, he quietly mourned every fallen tree and crushed flower that had been his only companions for centuries. There were claw marks in the ones that hadn't been mowed down by the demonic presence in his paradise. Seething as the soft cries of pain entered his ears, he put on a burst of speed and entered the clearing. Quickly setting one end of his bow on the ground, he drew back a celestial steel pointed arrow and aimed directly for the back of the beast. But then it turned.

And his heart nearly stopped.

Here was the demon, goat-footed and long-horned, that had killed his little helper. Who had ended his happiness forevermore with one charge. He knew it was the same one because it was looking at him through the heavy rheum spraying from every orifice on his body. It grinned at his, flat-toothed and bony with flesh both rotting and putrid. Irakiel trembled in horror at the recognition and loathing in that stare before the cries of his garden once again filled him with anger. But it was too late. Head down, the demon charged at him with it's massive horns.

A massive battle cry and a sword through the leg halted it's charge, but it didn't fall. Erael twisted his sword through the air, just as the drill masters had taught his class, and created the song of metal and blood. The horrible screech of the damned rang through the air, calling the Legion to battle once again. Erael stared at it victoriously then suddenly fell back screaming and clawing at his eyes. It had happened so fast that Irakiel had almost missed it and before he could process it, he had dropped the longbow and started to run. The demon had spit venom right into Erael's eyes.

Placing himself in front of his brother, he raised his sword and snarled a warning. But he had never been trained with a sword and so it wasn't long before he was sent flying into the trees. With a loud crack, his head was smashed against a rock and he lay slumped on the ground. The demon roared and picked up Erael, ready to toss him down his gullet.

A sudden shower of gold revealed the Archangel he had seen in his watery pictures, standing tall with twin swords and a horn hanging at his side. Wings flared, he murmured, "Well, can't say I forgot this one. I am pretty amazing, after all. Let's get this over with." Glancing at the willow tree, he gave his toothy grin to his counterpart peeking out of the tree and crooned, "I am _so _adorable at that age. Too bad we'll remember this, eh, mini-me?"

Angel squawked in surprise. The voice in his head and the picture in the water were from the same person. Him. Scrambling up, he watched as Jibril faced the demon and stared a foot down at the massive beast, who was gawking slightly at the six golden wings. Jibril smirked and pried the massive fingers from around Erael's arm before placing him gently on the ground. Staring at the demon, he lifted his horn and blew.

A massive blast of sound left the clearing and within seconds, the beating of dozens of wings filled the silence. With one last grin, Jibril vanished without a trace. Seconds later, the battle scarred Sergeant was kneeling by a weakly twitching Erael. Uncovering his eyes, he traced the acid burns before pulling back and hissing softly in grief. The Legion gathered around and laid hands on their brother, stroking and smoothing his wings as they poured generous amounts of grace into his own failing light as they tried to keep him alive.

Before they found him, Jibril went quickly to Irakiel and held his face just above his former caretaker's. Breathing in a small piece of the grown angel's grace, he exhaled some of his own. _You are Joshua, gardener and keeper of our Father__'__s paradise called Eden. You will forget about all of your grief and bitterness and no longer be condemned to a life of loneliness. You will no longer remember Acarael, the unnamed Archangel or Erael. You will live your life as Joshua from now until Apocalypse come._ Dew frosted Joshua's face as the water lightly healed the head wound. Then Angel leaned down and gave him a light kiss on the head.

Hiding behind a tree, he watched as both of the angels were carried away before moving forward to hang tightly onto the sling Erael was being flown in. No one saw the fledgling tucked under one limp wing as they opened the gates, even when he silently dropped off and into a tree not too far from the gates. Exhausted, he curled into a ball and slept until nightfall.

_**And Lucifer, distant and cold, chose the path of the morning and announced the new day with his light.**_

God looked up at the noise from the Gate and soon, was sprinting towards his two injured sons. Michael was discreetly gaping at him from off to the side for one, actually running, and two, running to the side of two apparent members of the Legion. He mentally shook his head before focusing on Irakiel an- no. Not Irakiel. Frowning lightly, he felt gingerly around the mismatched Grace that screamed the name _Joshua _as well as _forget, grief_ and _lonely. _Breathing out a sigh, he gently cradled his son's head and moved him to the pantheon in one easy move before going to Erael.

God traced the starburst of scars all around his eyes before gently prying open an eyelid, wincing at the angry redness of the entire sclera. Ripping off a piece of his robes, he wiped away the bloody tears that fell and then peered into the now milky white depths. He sighed. There was nothing he could do; this was fate and he dare not fight it. Instead, he ripped off another piece of his robe and gently wrapped it around his head, hiding and protecting the sightless eyes. He caught Michael looking around him with carefully hidden revulsion and wished more than ever that his plan would hurry up and come to pass.

He was so _tired_ of this.

After leaving them to their own devices with the promise to check up on them regularly, he quickly walked into the armory and carefully lifted a heavy metal case. Underneath sat a beautifully polished horn, made of light gold and shining ivory with silver trimmings. The writing on it, however, spoke of terrible things to come. God sat down with it in his lap, wondering how the Horn of the Apocalypse could have been blown when not a soul knew it had been created.

_**And Raphael, hidden behind his brother**__**'**__**s glory, remains by Michael**__**'**__**s side, always bright and wary.**_

As angel looked up at the stars, Jibril whispered in his ear who's Grace it belonged to and where they were and who they used to be. Some were of the Legion, some were Seraphim and some were from a Choir so high that their betrayal was completely taboo. Jibril laughingly told him despite that. He made the stars dance behind his eyes and told him stories that made him giggle or cry. He told him that if Lucifer was the Morning Star and Michael the Evening Star, then he was the Wandering Star who would guide every living being home at night. Behind the gates, even if he was relatively alone, was surprisingly peaceful.

He liked it.

**Well, most of you probably saw this coming. So vote in the poll or Gabriel dies. Again. It****'****s on my profile. Vote. Now. And he****'****s only called Angel when it****'****s in his own head; otherwise, it****'****s just various words for ****'****the baby****'****.**


End file.
